


three years, four months, and seventeen days

by Maggie_GoldenStar1530



Series: Dar'Manda [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Dumbasses, During Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Pre-Canon, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggie_GoldenStar1530/pseuds/Maggie_GoldenStar1530
Summary: If you take the helmet off, you can't ever put it back on.
Series: Dar'Manda [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636489
Comments: 79
Kudos: 273





	1. Chapter 1

It had been three years, four months, and 17 days since she’d been excommunicated. Three years, four months, 17 days. Four rebel bases. Three major battles, including Yavin. Countless skirmishes. Innumerable patients. And the last thing, the last person she expected to see when coming into a treatment room in the field hospital was a Mandalorian, much less Din.

For an endless heartbeat, she hoped that he wouldn’t recognize her. She also hoped that he would. She feared that he would. And feared that he wouldn’t.

He froze, and she lifted her chin, just a little bit. Either way, she had a job to do. _Treat the patient in front of you._ She looked down on the pad. “Shrapnel in the shoulder?”

 _Of course._ He thought. If there had been any doubt at seeing her face, a face he hadn’t seen since they were foundlings, and saw for the last time when she swore the Creed, the chin lift and her voice confirmed it. Her voice hadn’t changed, even though he hadn’t heard it for over three years. Of course she had found her way to continue to be a healer. And at least she wouldn’t try to ask annoying questions.

“Yes. I can’t reach it.” She nodded and went beside him to remove his pauldron and examine the wound. It wasn’t bad, it was just awkward. “I’m going to have to laser this closed. We have to save the bacta for the worst cases.”

“I understand.”

“How much pain is there?” She asked dispassionately. Clinically.

“I can take it.”

“I didn’t ask if you could take it. I asked how much pain there was.” A fissure of annoyance entered her voice.

“It’s not bad.”

She exhaled sharply, and picked up the cleaning spray. “It’s about to be worse.” When she sprayed it on the gash, he hissed, and she allowed herself a glimmer of satisfaction. _Knock it off._

She carefully put some numbing on the wound, and he relaxed. There had been more pain than he’d admitted to.

“I’m going to start closing it now.” He nodded, and they sat in miserable silence while she closed the gash, and covered it with a bandage that he’d be able to easily remove himself. “All done.” She put the pauldron back on, carefully, then went to clean her hands under the sterilizing light. “You’ll need to keep it clean and let the muscle heal for a couple of days, but you shouldn’t need to be seen again.”

She didn’t look at him, and the tension radiating from her shoulder was so palpable he could fold his fingers into it. “Thank you.”

She turned and looked at him, with eyes so guarded and so sad. He waited, perfectly still, to see what she would do, and she had just taken a breath to say… something, when a voice hollered for her to come and help with a chest wound.

“I’ll be right there!” she called and retreated back into herself. “So you’re good. Just… take care of yourself.” She fled out the door, back to where no one knew her or where she came from and only cared that she was a good healer and wouldn’t be fazed by anything.

Din stared at the door, and he too, left, back to the Razor Crest and anywhere the space winds blew him.

When she came back to the treatment room, there were a handful of credits, and a communicator code. And three years, four months, and 21 days after she’d been excommunicated, he received a blank message, but he knew it was her.

He’d know his foundling sister anywhere.


	2. Four years and three days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time goes on, paths cross and part and cross again.

Every so often, she’d get a message that was a single question mark. Sometimes she’d respond with coordinates. Sometimes simply just a period. Once just a long frustrated string of letters and punctuation. 

_ Are you alive? Where are you?  _

_ I’m alive. I’m here. FUCK EVERYTHING.  _

Four years and three days after she was excommunicated, he found her behind a clinic, sitting in the setting sun with her head back and her eyes closed. He sat down next to her, knowing that she should know he was there as soon as he has approached. She was raised to know these things. 

They sat in silence, and at one point he glanced sideways at her to see that she was also looking sideways at him warily. As soon as he moved his head, her eyes snapped shut.

He sighed to himself, because he didn’t know what to say, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start. But he brought a jar of behot, and he put it in her lap. Her fingers wrapped around it. She stared at it, confused, then turned to look at him, frowning. He resolutely looked forward.

“Thank you.” She sniffed it, and then really looked at him, seeing the tattered cloak, smudged, scratched, and battered armor, and tired slump of his shoulders. 

“You look like shit.” 

He barely stifled a laugh, because she was right. 

At some point, when the days ran together so much that she lost count, when the medics were run off their feet and the universe narrowed to the next patient and the next and the next and the next and the dwindling supplies, she sent a message that was just a torrent of frustrated and exhausted words. She’d been running on stims and adrenaline and grim determination, and after losing yet another kid to an infection that should have been easy to take care of, and she wrote how they were all running on fumes and didn’t even have pain medication left. She had no intention of sending it. She just needed to get it all out of her head and then maybe, MAYBE she could get some sleep.

She didn’t even remember hitting send. He didn’t respond, but she felt a little bit lighter, even as the situation didn’t improve. Four days later, though, a smuggler came through with a load of precious medication and supplies. “Special order.” he said, “Prepaid.” 

She cried so hard she threw up. 

After the war, after the early days of acute chaos settled, he got a set of coordinates for a planet in the outer rim, that mostly did mining and ranching and not much else, and he heard through judicious intelligence gathering (he asked somebody), needed doctors badly. 

_ I’m here, I’m safe.  _

And the subtext below the subtext:  _ I miss you.  _

He sent back a single period. 

_ I miss you, too. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> behot: herb used in beverages, mildly antiseptic and stimulating


	3. Six years, eight months, and six days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My idiot siblings are still working on sorting their shiz out. She's gotta figure out how to be a person, and Din's gonna Din. 
> 
> Also there's cats.

The house wasn’t great. It was small, but she’d only had what she could carry for so long it didn’t matter. The kitchen was functional, the sleeping room…. Well, it had a door.. There was storage for medical supplies (once she got them), and a room that could serve as a clinic. There was even a garden (or a pile of weeds that could be a garden. Maybe it was time to learn how to garden). The garden was surrounded by a wall with a gate, the gate was broken, but the wall was intact. There was a little gatehouse that held a sleeping alcove and a small sitting room. The problem was the whole place was just trashed. And it had been abandoned long enough that critters had eaten much of what was left.

“I need a loth cat. And bedding. And….” She sighed. “Everything. I need everything.” 

Going from Mandalore to the Covert to eventually drifting into the Rebellion did not prepare a girl for being a functional human on her own. All she had to her name was her armor, a small stash of credits, and a medkit. She could sell the armor, possibly, but even though it had been six years and eight months and six days since she’d been excommunicated, she still couldn’t part with it. 

A voice called a greeting from the gate and she turned with a hand on her blaster to see several people with a transport piled high with boxes and bundles. “Hello! Are you the new doctor?” 

She nodded, confused, and an older woman approached with a smile. “This place is a wreck, isn’t it?”

“....yes.” 

“Well, we’ll get that fixed up right away. Wha’d you say your name was?” 

“Teryn.” She eyed all of these people warily as they swarmed around the place, cleaning, unpacking...everything. Furniture. Bedding. Food. Kitchenware. Lights. More people introduced themselves to her than she’d talked to since Endor. 

The older woman brought over a mug of tea and clucked sympathetically. “They told me you served with the Rebellion. Bet you saw a lot, didn’t you?” Teryn nodded, bewildered. “This is a nice place. Good people. Good place to rest and recover.”

Teryn nodded once, still on guard. 

“This is what community is, darlin’! You’re here to take care of us, we’ll take care of you.” 

Teryn swallowed hard. Yes, that is what community was. Until they turn their backs on you. 

The next day, the older woman came by again and brought breakfast, and a large covered basket. “Noticed there were critters. Brought you something to help with that.” Inside were three loth cats, one of which was a tiny kitten. “The big ones can take care of themselves, but the little one... he needs some special care. Runt of the litter and all that.” 

Teryn carefully picked up the kitten and held him up to peer into his eyes. “Yeah, I think I can handle that.” He hissed, and she laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time in six years, eight months, and seven days. “Atin? How does that sound?” 

The other two, unsociable and basically feral, she named Chakaar and Shabuir. 

The routine took time to settle into. Clinics rotating through several mines, and the nearest town. People calling for emergencies. Atin riding on her shoulder as he grew, and following her around the little compound. It was nice to have someone to talk to, and he liked it when she sang. 

It was a relief to have time to make notes on patients, keep proper records, watch the kids grow, to see the cycle of life play out naturally. It was weird to have people inquire after her welfare on a regular basis, to receive invitations, to experience what other people called a normal life. 

She let her hair grow (Long hair didn’t work under a helmet). She learned new songs and played around with the old ones. 

She never sang the Mandalorian songs where anyone could hear. She didn’t want anyone asking awkward questions, even if they did recognize them. 

In general, no one asked where she was from. A few people asked where she’d served during the war. The teacher had been a medic- he was the one who’d told her about this place that needed her. He could see she needed it as much as it needed her. 

In the sun and rain and under the moons, she slowly finds a new life. 

She never forgets her old one. The armor is carefully packed away, and gets cleaned regularly (you never know). Weapons are stashed around the house, in the speeder, under the pillow, and at the very least, a blade is on her person at all times (weapons are my religion). And she does her best to keep in practice, though forms without a sparring partner aren’t ideal (it’s better than nothing). 

Seven years, six months, and nine days after she was excommunicated, she got a blank message which she really didn’t know what it meant. At least, not until the Razor Crest landed in her backyard. 

He really wasn’t entirely sure about the reception he’d get, and seeing her waiting in the doorway clearly with a hand on a blaster was certainly in the realm of the expected. He did not expect to suddenly get knocked off his feet by an angry loth cat. 

“Oh for the love of- CHAKAAR!”

Okay, being called names was also to be expected, if he was being honest with himself, but he wasn’t sure what he did to deserve THAT. 

She ran over and grabbed the cat by the scruff. “If you weren’t at least MARGINALLY USEFUL, I WOULD SKIN YOU.” she shoved him back towards the garden. “Go fucking earn your keep, Chakaar.” 

Din lay on the ground, perplexed. “Can I get up?” 

She turned to see him, flat on his back in the dust, and laughed. Out loud, and long enough that tears streamed down her face. Every time she got close to gaining some control over herself, she’d look at him and start again. 

He just took it. 

Once she had subsided to hiccups, clutching her abdomen, and wiping her eyes, he sighed. “Why am I a corpse robber?”

“Not you. The cat’s name is Chakaar. He’s an asshole.” 

He had tried really hard to come up with a reason to visit, but the truth was he was in the sector, and wasn’t in a rush, and he wanted to see how she was doing. “Su cuy’gar.” 

“So I am. And so are you.”

“How are the people?”

“They’re nice. Very friendly. Like, REALLY friendly.” She paused. “It’s weird.” 

He nods. He gets it. 

“So…. why are you… here?” 

“I had a… splinter.”

She stared at him, suspiciously. “When was the last time someone reminded you that you are a terrible liar?”

“A while.” 

She grinned, and gestured at the house. “There’s food in there, if you want any.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atin: stubborn, tenacious, capable of endurance  
> Chakaar: corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse  
> Shabuir : extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger  
> Su cuy’gar: Hello - lit. *You're still alive.*


	4. nine years, two months, and twenty seven days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fight has been a long time coming.

After that, he came by somewhat regularly. Always with warning. She’d get a message, and set up the gate house with blankets and food and sooner or later he’d show up. Once (Eight years and four days) he showed up while she was out on a call, and left before she woke up, but he’d brought some precious behot seeds so she could try growing her own (the imported stuff was expensive as hell). 

One time (Eight years, five months, and twelve days) he arrived just in time to find her scowling with irritation at a man attempting to hold her at blaster point, yelling that she would treat the injured man on his speeder or he would shoot.. He got distracted by the glint off of beskar, and she just snatched the blaster from the man’s hand. “Of course I’m going to fix up your buddy. I’m a fucking doctor, shit for brains.” She grinned wolfishly and jerked her chin towards Din. “Now you gotta deal with him.” 

That was a fun day. 

Then there was the day (nine years, two months, and twenty six days) where there wasn’t a message, but she saw the Razor Crest heading in for a landing, wobbling all over the place and on an erratic approach. “The fuck is he doing?” She could see he wasn’t going to land near the house, and odds were pretty good he wasn’t going to be in great condition for walking. “Kaysh shu’shuk.” 

She was practiced at running out for emergencies- there was a bag in her transport (that was kept in good condition _thank you very much_ ) and all she needed to grab was water and some precious bacta. “You better not need this, you thrice-damned di’kut.” 

Somehow, the Crest had landed. In one piece, even And somehow, the gangplank was down. No idiot brother in the hold area, though, which meant nothing good. “I better not have to haul your sorry ass down from there!” 

He came down the ladder in a sort of controlled fall. “You don’t.”

“Well, Good. Because I would have just left you there.” She didn’t run forward, not _exactly_ , but she suddenly appeared at his side to support him on the way to the speeder. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

One shoulder was clearly dislocated, and judging from the swelling had been for some time. And he was limping, favoring the same side as the shoulder, and she could see dried blood on his leg armor. “What happened?”

“Can we talk about this in the house?”

“No. I need you to tell me what happened before you pass out so I can put you back together again. Idiot. And if you’re gonna throw up when I put your shoulder back, I need to set up a curtain so it doesn’t just sit in your helmet and get in your nose.”

“That was you.”

“I know, and it was very unpleasant and even though you are an idiot, I would like to spare you that particular indignity. My helmet smelled like vomit for a month.” 

“Job got away from me. Information wasn’t clear. Ended up having to jump off a cliff to get back to the ship. Landed badly.” 

She got him into the speeder, and honestly, trying to maneuver an adult Mandalorian in full armor was not easy, even if it was part of your training. “What hurts in your leg?” 

“Thigh. Might have fractured something.” 

“Did you use any bacta? Any of the medical supplies I gave you?”

“Ran out.”

She paused for a split second. “Because you used it, or someone else did?” He didn’t answer; he’d passed out exactly as expected. “Adrenaline dump is a bitch, ain’t it?”

Back at the house she hauled him into her infirmary, and was in the process of removing his leg armor when he woke up, reflexively going from his blaster. “No need for that, it’s just me. Try to relax, because you DID manage to crack your femur, even through the armor. Very impressive.” 

She kept up a running commentary as she went through removing the armor and administering pain medication. It helped give him something to focus on other than what she was doing, and the litany of general insults as she cleaned up his wounds was something that had started when they were children. He’d be battered from fighting practice (or just fighting) and she would clean him up, while pointing out that she never got hurt nearly as much as he did. (“Fight smarter, not harder.”)

“When was the last time you had your armor tuned up? This is a disaster, and I know it didn’t start out that way. Remember that kid from the last time you were here that thought he needed to hold me at gunpoint to do my job? The one that’s actually dumber than you? Turns out that there’s a whole feud brewing between the ranchers and some farmers that decided to give it a go here -how that’s gonna work out for them I do NOT know, good luck with that- and they’re arguing over the land. It’s insane and they’re expecting people to choose sides which no. Oh that bruise is old, but I bet it was pretty. Someone tried to start this whole “the farmers and the ranchers can be friends” thing but then a wedding got interrupted by a shootout and for once the mines are the most calm place on the planet. My guess is the reason you’re out of medical supplies is because you gave them away? Typical. Okay, your leg should be feeling better already. I’m gonna do your shoulder now. On three. One, two-” and she whipped his arm up. 

“Haar’chak-”

“Are you gonna puke?” 

“....no.”

“Good.” She strapped his arm to his side. “You need to keep it like that for a few hours, and then we’ll see if I need to waste more bacta on your sorry ass.” He turned his head to look at her and she shrugged. “It’s expensive, and I don’t like you that much.”

Being a Mandalorian healer meant you had to deal with injured clan members regularly. You got used to it. You handled it. But she had no clan anymore, and Din was both her foundling brother and the only Mandalorian she’d had contact with since...well, _since_. She didn’t really expect to suddenly start shaking (and for fuck’s sake, were those tears threatening?) once the emergency was passed, but upon reflection, maybe she should have.

Feelings were terrible. 

She spent the night having a panic attack and clutching Atin. Din pretended he couldn’t hear. 

If either of them had been honest with themselves, or in the habit of self-reflection, they would have been able to admit that the fight had been brewing for years. But when the morning started with burned breakfast and went downhill from there. 

“When I give you medical shit it’s because you need it. Don’t give it away!”

“I’ll do what I think is necessary.” 

“That’s gonna get you killed someday.”

“Just because I care about the Covert…” She pulled back at that, eyes going hard. If he’d been smart, he would have stopped there. He growled under his breath, “Hut’uun.” 

Her face went white and she jerked back like he’d slapped her. “Get out.”

He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. He’d never let himself think it before. But…. he sort of believed it. “You-”

“GET. OUT. You don’t know a fucking thing.” 

“YOU LEFT. YOU WALKED AWAY.”

“Get the fuck out of my house. LEAVE.” 

He stood his ground and stared. She pulled one of the many blasters hidden around the house and aimed it at his chest. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I never want to see you again.” 

He left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysh shu’shuk: He's a disaster  
> di’kut: idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)  
> Haar’chak: Damn it!  
> Hut’uun: coward (worst possible insult)


	5. nine years, three months, and twenty nine days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is very sad.

She spent the next month in a numb daze. 

When her world had shattered, and she first became a foundling, she would find the smallest place possible to sleep. Under the bed, in a cupboard, and once in the Armorer’s tool chest. (One of Din’s chores first thing in the morning in those early months was to find where his new sister had hidden herself.) She’d grown out of the habit as she got more secure with her new life, but in the first weeks after she was excommunicated, she’d found herself falling back in. After she’d joined the Rebellion and found some purpose again, she hadn’t needed to hide. 

She’d moved her bedding into the closet. Sleep was a kind word. 

She still did her job, but it was fortunate for the entire community that nothing major came up. A doctor going through the motions can handle only so much. And people noticed. 

It was Andrys, the medic-turned-teacher, who decided it was his job to snap her out of it. “Come on, it’s a holiday. Festival time. There’ll be dancing. And alcohol.”

“I don’t feel like dancing.”

“The kids are asking if you’ll be there.” 

“That’s blackmail.”

“Is it working?” 

“....yes.” 

She knew that drinking when she’d barely eaten for a while was a terrible idea, but it was better that feeling things. They wandered around, and she went through the motions of normal interaction. As the dancing got started, they sat and watched, Andrys trying to not make his worried glances obvious, when one of the miners kids came up to her with a cookie.

“You look sad.” 

Teryn nodded, “Yeah, I am sad.” 

“Did somebody make you sad?” 

“You could say that.” 

The kid looked darkly at Andrys. “Was it my teacher?” She used the tone of someone who would bite with only a little provocation and was looking for an excuse.

Teryn smiled a bit. “No, it wasn’t him. It was someone else.” 

“My mama said that when you make someone sad, they should say they’re sorry. Do you think they’ll say sorry?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“My mama also says hugs can make people less sad. Can I give you a hug?” 

These kids were so much like the Mando’a kids, and so not. “Yes, you can give me a hug. Thank you, kiddo.”

The kid very seriously broke her cookie in half, offered one half to Teryn, and ran off. Andrys handed her a cup of brew. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Was it that Mandalorian who shows up every once in a while?”

The problem with having spent so much time wearing a helmet is that you never get into the habit of schooling your features to not betray your thoughts. You have to control your body and your head movements, keep your hands still and not visibly flinch, but that’s easier when you can just let your face do whatever it wants. Add that with the alcohol and the empty stomach and, well, there was no concealing any reaction to that question. 

“He beat the shit out of Cody last year, and Cody’s got a big mouth. And I saw his ship a month ago. Right when you got like… this.”

She sighed. “I can’t- I won’t- explain it all right now, but yes.”

“I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready to tell me.” 

“I appreciate that.” Teryn knocked back her drink and stood up, only slightly unsteadily. “I think I’m gonna head home. But… thanks. This was something sorta like fun.”

Andrys held out a steadying hand. “For your state of mind right now, that’s saying something. You want a ride?”

“I’ll walk. Everyone is here, and it’s a nice night. The most dangerous things around here are my asshole cats.” 

She’d almost made it to the edge of town when a group of men started following her. She noticed as soon as they did.  _ Don’t you idiots know what you’re playing with? _ Of course they didn’t. Of course they saw an easy target.  _ Maybe I need a chew toy.  _

She carefully, deliberately lead them into an abandoned building, and while it would have been smarter to pick them off from the shadows, one by one, it wouldn’t have been as entertaining as waiting for them. 

They came in, and looked briefly uncertain while she gave a feral smile. The uncertainty gave way to fear when she picked up a pipe and stepped forward. The first one didn’t even have a chance to duck when the pipe connected with his jaw. The second yelled when she crushed his knee and then used his solar plexus to leap onto the back of the third, wrapping an arm around his throat. He attempted to backpedal and slam her into the wall, and she used his momentum to steer him into a pillar, headfirst. The fourth guy actually attempted to throw a punch, and had the good grace to realize his mistake when she blocked the blow and slammed her elbow into his face.

The fifth one ran. 

That was actual fun. That felt  _ good. _

She couldn’t deny herself a little swagger as she made the long hike to her house. And for the first time in a month, she pulled her bedding out of the closet and slept, really slept, in the bed. 

If, in the morning when she went back into town to hand out hangover remedies and wire shut a broken jaw, splint a knee, and set a broken nose, people noticed that there was a bit more light in her eyes, they only felt mild relief that their doctor seemed to be back among the living. And if the five idiots quietly left off world that afternoon, no one noticed. Except for one teacher who didn’t miss much. 

He didn’t say anything, though. 

Din had never mentioned that he had seen her to anyone. He vaguely assumed the Armorer knew- she knew everything- but discussing having seen someone who was Dar’Manda, (having sought her out multiple times, even) he couldn’t explain that, so he didn’t. 

But everyone knew something was off about him. He was shorter tempered than usual. Somehow even more taciturn. 

No one asked, because it wasn’t their business. If he took four bounties at once, that was his call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar' Manda: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade


	6. Ten years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between episodes 6 and 7. Ridiculously fluffy. The baby needs a bath and meets a (nice) kitty. 
> 
> Din needs a nap. 
> 
> There's singing!

Going on the job for Ranzar was a mistake. The whole escapade had been a mistake, but they needed credits and like so many other things, it seemed like a good idea at the time. He was exhausted. The Kid was exhausted. They needed a place that no one else knew about, with someone who might have their backs. 

He was certain she was still angry, and she was very clear last time he saw her that he was not to darken her doorstep again. But he was just. So. Very. Tired.

Desperation causes us to do desperate things. He opened a holomessage. 

“I am sorry to bother you, and I understand if you do not answer. I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t in need… I can pay you handsomely.” He paused. “Please.” 

Teryn watched the message twice and snorted in derision. “‘I can pay you handsomely.’ Asshole.” 

But he asked. In a holomessage, even. She sent back a single word. 

_Fine._

She was out when they arrived after dark. He carefully took an approach that avoided the few towns and settlements and thanked whatever was responsible that she lived far from anyone. In the gatehouse there were blankets and food (extremely bland, which was a savage move he would appreciate later). He got the Kid settled (who seemed relieved to be out of the ship, for his part) and fell into the bed before he got all of his armor off. 

Surely those psychotic cats of hers would scare off anyone with ill intent. 

  
  


Teryn got back in the wee hours. The door to the gatehouse was closed, which meant he was there. _Time enough to deal with him in the morning._ The more pressing matter was the fact that her supply of bacta was critically low, and the new order hadn’t arrived yet. _That fucker better not need any._

Morning came far too soon, and she dithered in the kitchen making behot (but only enough for one; asshole doesn’t deserve it) and fussing. But the gatehouse stayed quiet and shut, and eventually she folded, and went to go kick his ass out of bed. 

At the door she could hear movement, and they stopped at her knock. Silence stretched for a long minute, and she knocked again. 

A baby started to whimper. 

“....fuck.” Teryn breathed and keyed open the door. The first thing she saw was a haphazard pile of armor outside the sleeping chamber. The second thing she saw was light glinting off of’s Din’s helmeted head. 

The third thing was a small green being with big bright eyes and big ears, standing in the middle of the room where he had clambered out of his carrier, looking frankly relieved to see her. 

Teryn blinked. 

The green thing held its arms up. 

After another blink, Teryn automatically picked him up, and he cooed and reached a claw towards her face. She shied away from the touch, and looked at Din. He hadn’t even moved at her entrance, which wasn’t normal for a Mandalorian. But she couldn’t smell anything that indicated disease, and he wasn’t lying in a way that indicated pain. 

She did start to feel like the kid was hungry, though, and the shapeless tunic he was in was filthy. That could be remedied right away. Teryn sighed. “He did say ‘we,’ didn’t he?”

In the kitchen, she and the Kid regarded each other. “Your teeth look pretty sharp. Meat? We can try some meat.” His ears perked up at that, and she had some leftover spiced meatballs that were positively mild by Mandalorian standards. 

They did not go over well. She wasn’t entirely sure how something that small could look so betrayed _and_ throw a meatball that far. 

“Okay, buddy, let’s find something less flavorful, shall we? I have some bantha? Should we cook that up?” The ears perked up, and she took that as a yes. She hummed one of the miner’s folk songs as she cooked the meat, and eventually the baby started to hum along. “Oh you like that? How long have you been hanging around him anyway? I bet he doesn’t sing for you.” 

“Memories like voices that call in the wind,

Medhel an gwyns,

Medhel an gwyns.

Whispered and tossed on the tide coming in,

Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.

Voices like songs that are heard in the dawn,

Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.

Singing the secrets of children unborn,

Medhel, oh, medhel an gwyns.

Dreams like the memories once born on the wind,

Medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns.”

The baby listened with rapt attention, but that might have been because she gave him the (ridiculously bland) meat nuggets when she finished the song. “One at a time! You will choke!”

Once the baby had satiated himself on what seemed like half a bantha roast, she set him on the floor where he could toddle around (with a full belly, so the baby waddle was especially adorable) while she filled the sink with warm water. “All the best babies get baths in the kitchen sink. That’s just science.” 

Behind her, she heard Atin make an inquiring chirp, and the baby responded with an anxious wail that cut off abruptly. The baby stared at Atin, who politely waited at a distance, but with the rigid interest of someone who has made a decision about his new best friend but will wait until given permission (but waiting is haaaaaaard). The baby’s ears were down and he radiated anxiety. Just as the kid began to raise his arm, Teryn scooped him up. “It’s okay, it’s okay! He’s a nice kitty, but he is pretty big from your point of view isn’t he? I’ll introduce you properly later, but right now, it’s time for a bath.” 

Getting him out of the shapeless tunic was a bit of a struggle, but once in the warm water, the kid began to play with it, splashing and blowing bubbles. It took three rinses before the water ran clear. The tunic also took several rinses. 

“And how does the sun even fit in the sky?

It just burns like a fire in the pit of the sky

And the earth is a bird on a spit in the sky

How long, how long, how long?”

“Should we go check on him? Let's go check on him, now that you’re clean and fed and everything.” Teryn wrapped the baby in a towel and grabbed a medscanner ( _just in case but I am not going to do anything for him)_.

Inside the gatehouse, Din hadn’t moved at all. The scan didn’t reveal any major injuries or illness. The baby trilled, worried. She shrugged. “I guess he just needs sleep. So we will let him sleep.” She scowled. “Then I’ll kick his ass.” 

The day passed with Teryn working in the garden while the baby wandered around poking at things and bringing rocks and twigs for inspection, until he got tired and snuggled down for a nap. While he napped, she caught up on data work and organizing supplies. 

After a nap, they had her meal, and then Teryn worked on introducing Atin and the baby. Atin crept closer and closer while she sat on the floor, holding the kid. Atin was crouched as low as possible, and the baby kept looking from the cat to her and back, dubious. Atin would creep closer, the baby would stare, until Atin darted forward and _licked_ the baby on the head before darting away. 

The baby was affronted. Teryn giggled. 

As darkness fell, she sang the baby to sleep with an old Mandalorian lullaby. 

In the gatehouse, Din roused enough to hear the last strains, which he’d heard the first time his first night with the Mandalorians, and had heard echoing through the covert on nights when the youngest foundlings needed something to help them sleep. He removed his helmet and slept again. 

“Bíum bíum bambaló,

Bambaló og dillidillidó

Vini mínum vagga ég í ró

En úti biður andlit á glugga” 

"Bíum bíum bambaló,

Bambaló and dillidillidó

My little friend I lull to rest

But outside, a face looms at the window"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the songs are pulled from other things that get the tone right. I don't write songs. 
> 
> Medhels and Gwyns from Poldark, by Anne Dudley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VBdu1n8Y7k
> 
> How Long from Hadestown, by Anais Mitchell: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AGq78ojyKk
> 
> Bíum bíum bambaló, Icelandic lullaby (I looked for "Creepy lullabys" and loved the sound of this): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFExVA2j8Rk


	7. Ten Years and Two Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a small helping of truth would be good. Also passive aggressive punishment of idiot siblings.

Morning dawned again, like it always does. The Kid woke up before she did, and was at first distressed to not see his protector right away. But he could feel him, not far, and he could see the woman with sad eyes and the pretty songs. And the licking kitty, who he was still not sure about. He hoped his protector woke up soon. This place was peaceful and nice, if lacking in certain creature comforts. Like frogs. 

Teryn got up, got her behot, the baby got his bantha nuggets, and just as she was contemplating how best to approach the day, a crash, a muffled oath, and then another crash sounded from the gatehouse. The baby shrieked in joy when Din opened the gatehouse door and tried to launch himself towards the Mandalorian in the heedless way babies do. 

Din picked him up. The Kid’s face was happy at first, then his ears dropped and his nose wrinkled. “What’s wrong, kid? You okay?” 

Teryn also wrinkled her nose. “You stink.” 

“What?”

“You. Smell. Please go clean yourself. With water.” 

“I don’t-” he gestured to the Kid. 

“He is fine. He is fed. He is clean. You are not. Go away.” She was not looking at him, and it didn’t take a lot of intuition to see that she was still coldly enraged. The Kid trilled, worriedly. 

“Can I leave him with you?”

She nodded and reached for the Kid, still refusing to look Din in the face. The Kid looked dubiously between them, but the smell of rank Mandalorian beat his desire to stay with Din. “It’s okay. He’ll be back. Then he can tell me just what the hell.” 

Din turned and muttered, “Gonna be real hard when you won’t look at me.” 

The shower was nice though. And somehow he’d had the presence of mind to grab extra clothes when they left the Crest. And having the Kid being supervised by someone who he trusted (and he still did, despite… everything) meant he could take his time and shave and admire his bruises from fighting with Burg. And eat something, even if it was completely tasteless. He admitted he deserved it. 

Refreshed, clean, smelling better, he went back to the house, heralded by the happy shrieks of the Kid. He was “helping” Teryn prepare bundles of plants for drying by handing her bits of string to tie them together. Din watched them for a minute, and could see that Teryn’s hands were shaking ever so slightly. 

“N’eparavu takisit.” 

She paused, but still didn’t look up. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. And I’m sorry.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She sighed. “What the hell is going on?” 

So he told her. About the job, about the Mudhorn, turning the Kid over and stealing him back, about the adventures since. About the Covert revealing themselves. About Sorgan. And Cara and the AT-ST. Tatooine and Fennec, and finally the prison break. And the hunters still after the Kid. 

“Wow. No wonder you slept all day yesterday.” 

“That’s all you have to say? ‘Wow’?” 

“I mean, I think that covers it. He doesn’t have a name?” 

“Not that I know of.” He considered for a minute. “Could you, take a look at him? Medically? Make sure he’s healthy?”

She looked at the Kid. “I don’t know what’s “healthy” for him, I've never seen anything like him. But I can at least give you a baseline of where he is now. That’s something.” She picked up the Kid and headed for the infirmary room, and the Kid took one look and started howling and reaching for Din. Din immediately took the Kid into his arms and the baby buried his face in his chest. She looked at Din, questioning.

Din frowned to himself, looking at the sobbing kid. “When I… when the Imp took him, they brought him into an examination room, droid and everything.” He paused, and added, quietly, guiltily. “I don’t know what they did to him in there.” 

Teryn nodded. “It’s okay, ad’ika. We don’t have to go in there, if you don’t want to.” She rubbed his little back. “We can stay right here.” She looked up at Din. “Sometimes new Foundlings would be too traumatized to go into an exam room, too. It’s fine.” 

She popped into the infirmary to grab a scanner and a datapad while Din settle him on the table. The Kid was still hiccuping, but was much calmer. 

Until he saw the scanner, and started to quiver again. “No? Too much? We can do old school.” She had him wiggle his fingers, looked at his teeth, in his ears. She made as close an estimate to body temperature as she could with her hands (and the datapad had many caveats of “feels like” “do not quote me on this” “this is a guess” “I am probably wrong”) and gently felt his abdomen, listened to his heart and breathing, made many notes, all the while keeping up a running commentary, half in Basic, half in Mando’a. 

Din watched carefully, nodding whenever the Kid looked at him for reassurance. 

“He seems fine.” She shrugged and handed Din the datapad. “Best we can do right now.” 

“Thank you.” He sat down and the Kid snuggled as close as he could into his neck, claws scrabbling on his helmet. 

She went into the infirmary and came back with a small jar and tossed it to him. “I need to go in to town, I have a clinic this afternoon. You both should stay here and rest, and put that on your bruises.”

“How do you-” 

“You have bruises on your ribs, I can tell from how you’re moving. Use that.” 

“We should be going.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stand up.” He stood, and she shoved him, not particularly hard, in the shoulder, and he staggered off balance. “You can’t possibly take care of yourself or him while you’re like this. So. Stay. Sleep. I’ll bring back something for dinner. Only one other person on this planet has the code to my gate, and he shouldn’t be around today.” 

Din nodded once. She was right, and he knew it. 

He found the lack of insults worrying. 

  
  


She returned with food later that evening, and he had to admit that the bruise salve did work. So did the series of naps he and the Kid had engaged in all day. He also had taken the time to do some much needed armor maintenance, eat actual food (she’d left a note with the spices that just said “NO”) and think. A lot. It was disconcerting. He needed to think about what they were going to do, and he had to admit, he had no idea. At all. Ultimately he would need to do something other than react, but he didn’t know what that should be. 

The next morning, she still refused to let him have any behot. Or breakfast with flavor. This was getting ridiculous. Sure, on his ship, ration bars and random tasteless crap was fine, but this was _punishment_. After he ate, he watched the Kid and Atin continue their acquaintance. The Kid was still unsure, but Atin, true to his name, was determined that the Kid would be his best friend. 

Din and Teryn sat awkwardly for a bit, watching, before Din shrugged. “Should we just spar it out?” 

Teryn snorted. “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” She considered for a second, then stood up and headed for the courtyard. “Let’s go. Lay off the face.” 

The Kid watched as they sparred- slowly at first, then ramping up the speed with each move. Sad Eyes was more graceful than his protector (Buir was the word that his protector kept shying away from in his mind, but it kept coming back), but without armor there wasn’t much she could do against him except dodge and try to knock him off balance. What was more interesting than the physical movements (and they were pretty) was the emotions that both fighters were cycling through. Anger. Love. Shame. Worry. Hurt. Pain. Pride. Shame. So much shame the woman was drowning in it. 

After an hour, they both collapsed against the wall, out of the sun, panting. Teryn shook her head. “Buir would be so ashamed of me.”

“She would be ashamed of us both. You’re out of practice. I’m a disaster.” 

“Not just that.” 

“I know.” He paused, and admitted,“I thought about it.”

“About what?”

“On Sorgun. I thought about taking it off and staying there. With him.” 

“We’ve all thought about it. Everyone has thought about it at least once.” 

“You did it.” 

She didn’t answer for a long time, staring at her hands. Finally, she said, “No. No, I didn’t.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ad'ika: kid, little one  
> Behot: herb used in beverages, mildly antiseptic and stimulating  
> N'eparavu takisit: Apology ("I eat my insult.") 
> 
> Mandalorian cuisine is heavy on spices and flavors. Bland food is a STATEMENT.


	8. Ten years and two days and one morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several more very hard truths come out into the light.

“No. No, I didn’t,”

For something like ten years, he thought he knew why she left. She made a choice. And for something like ten years, she never implied anything different. 

Well, there was that one time. 

He’d never asked, because he told himself he wasn’t his business. In truth, he was afraid that if he asked, and if she told him, he’d have confirmation that she was a coward. And he didn’t want to believe that. 

“What?” 

She looked at him, sad and...afraid, he realized. This wasn’t a bell that could be unrung. 

The gate opened, and they both surged to their feet, and she reached up under the eaves of the house and produced a blaster, which she immediately tossed to him. “I thought you said only one person on the planet had the code and he wouldn’t be around today.”

“That was yesterday.” She muttered out the corner of her mouth. “And I don’t know why he’s here today.” She pasted on a smile and waved as Andrys came through the gate.

Andrys did not smile. He glowered at the Mandalorian. “The hell is he doing here?” 

Din cocked his head. This man seemed to have an _opinion_ about him, and he did not recall meeting him. “Guest.” 

Teryn rubbed her forehead. It seemed like this was going to be a day of truth, which was not really what she was planning on for the morning. “What are you doing here?”

“You left your bag in town yesterday. I brought it. What does he mean ’guest’? Last time he was here you were a mess.” 

Din looked at her, “What?” 

“Shut up. You’re not that important.” _Lies._

“Teryn, what the fuck is this?” 

Din flinched. He hadn’t heard anyone call her by her name since they were both children. He hadn’t said it…. ever. It just wasn’t done.

Teryn sighed. “Okay. Come in. This requires drinks.” She leveled a look at Din. _I trust this man, and I need you to trust me._ Din nodded, once, and picked up the Kid. If they needed to bug out because this guy got weird, he wanted to be ready. 

Teryn poured some brew for herself and Andrys and gestured for the two men to sit down at the table. Din sat down slowly, facing the door, and just stared at Andrys. She remained silent for a minute, until Andrys got frustrated. “Ter-”

She held up her hand. “I’m just trying to figure out the straightest path through this story.” She chewed her lip. “What do you know about Mandalorians?” 

“Their were mighty warriors, they aren’t seen without thier helmets, and most of them were killed by the Empire.” 

“That’s pretty much right, except they _are_ mighty warriors. So, I know him because… we grew up together.” 

“You’re... a Mandalorian?” 

Her jaw tightened, just a fraction. “I _was_. I was Found by the Mandalorians when I was four years old after a Separatist attack on my home planet. I think. I don’t really remember. But I was raised by them, and trained by them, and when I came of age, I swore the Creed. Which meant, among other things, that I wouldn’t remove my helmet in front of anyone.” 

“You never told me.” 

“I never told anyone. Ever.” She shrugged. “When I showed up at an Alliance field hospital and said I was a doctor, how can I help, they didn’t question anything except if I knew the right end of the scalpel to hold.” 

“What happens if you remove it? The helmet?”

Din echoed the answer he gave Cara back on Sorgun. “You can’t ever put it on again.”

“It’s more than that. Your armor and your helmet is your soul. Your honor. Your bond to the Manda. It’s….everything.” She swallowed, hard, willing herself to get through this. “If you lose your soul, you lose your home, your clan, your people. Everything.”

“So…? You took it off?”

She looked at Din, willing him to understand. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t remove my helmet.”

Andrys asked what Din wanted to. “So who did?”

“An enemy?” Din tried to ask gently, but he was just barely keeping himself in check. The Kid looked at him, ears down, anxious. 

“No. It wasn’t an enemy.” Teryn took a deep breath. “I was on a mission with two other Mandalorians. We got pinned down by a squad of stormtroopers, and one of the others was injured. Badly. I was trying to stabilize him when…” She swallowed. “When the other one said we had to go, he’d found an escape route. He said we couldn’t carry the injured one. I didn’t want to leave him.” She stared into the memory, and whispered, “It was only a squad.” 

Beneath his own helmet, Din frowned. He’d heard a version of this story before. A very different version.

“He pulled his vibroblade, and killed the injured one. And tried to get me to run. The stormtroopers found us and he…. Pulled off my helmet, and he ran, knowing they’d be busy with me.”

There was silence. Din very carefully took the Kid off his lap, very carefully set him on the table, stood up, and punched the wall several times. The Kid and Andrys flinched. Teryn didn’t move. 

“What did you do? What happened with the stormtroopers?” 

“It was eight to one. What the fuck do you think?”

“They captured you?” 

Teryn looked at Andrys in disbelief. “Fucking seriously? It was only eight to one.”

Din said, slowly: “They found his body properly covered. And with the bodies of the stormtroopers piled at his feet.” 

“I did the best I could. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“So… the one who took your helmet. What happened to him?” Andrys asked.

Din answered, measured, controlled. “He went back to the Covert. Told everyone that you had removed your helmet and ran. That he killed the troopers. He brought your helmet back with him as proof.” 

Teryn let out a breath in a long hiss.

“I don’t understand, you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this was your fault.” Andrys’ confusion was evident.

“Doesn’t matter. End result is the same.” No one who wasn’t Mando’a could possibly understand. The shame of it, the betrayal. Not just of the one who had stolen her helmet and her soul, but of the Way that allowed it.

“Did you ever go back? To the… what was the word?” 

“The Covert. Yes. I made it back thirteen days later. I was met at the door and told in no uncertain terms that I was Dar’Manda, a hut’uun, a coward, and that I should be killed on the spot.” 

“Who.” Din, controlled. Angry. 

“No one told you I came back?”

“No. Who was it? Who barred you?”

“Take a guess.”

Din swore under his breath. Fucking Paz. He would be the one that placed the Way above everything and everyone else. He'd been a traditionalist even as a child. 

“That’s the one.” She swallowed again, trying to choke back the sobs that were threatening to burst out. “So, that’s what happened.” She stared down at the table, feeling like the hole where her soul had been was now exposed for the entire galaxy to see. The Kid walked toward her and reached a claw towards her face, just like he had done the first time she picked him up. And just like the first time, she shied away from the touch, but with hot tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. 

Din knelt down next to her and took one of her hands in his. “Ni ceta. Ni ceta, ni ceta.” 

“The is the Way.” A broken whisper, and a cold comfort. 

She let out a shuddering sob, and he touched his helmet to her forehead. “N’eparavu takisit. Ni ceta.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar' Manda: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade  
> ni ceta: sorry (lit: I kneel) grovelling apology - rare  
> N'eparavu takisit: sorry (lit: I eat my insult)


	9. Ten years and three days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you finally admit the biggest secret of your life, what do you do next?
> 
> Get into a fight, apparently.

The three of them didn’t talk much after that. Andrys went in theory to organize the supply room, but he really needed time to sort through everything he’d learned and piece it together with everything he already knew. A lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense.

Din went to the Crest to see about any repairs and to air the whole ship out. And to think. He left the Kid with Teryn, who climbed up on the roof. It was quiet up there, away from everyone. The Kid, for his part, was content to be held, and tried to project affection. He hummed a little to try to get her to sing. 

"See there, past that far-off hill

A tower held in the sky

Hear there, in that dark blue night

The music calling us home

See there, in that far-off field

Flowers turned to the sky

Feel there, in that dark blue night

The music calling us home."

“I just realized,” Andrys said as he helped with making dinner. “This explains why you were so bad with head wounds.”

She barked out a laugh. “Yeah. I learned, though.” 

“And when we had to bug out Dantooine. There was a group who were being pursued by scout troopers, and then they weren’t. That was you.” 

She nodded, grinning a little. That had been fun. 

“I can’t believe you never said anything. I’ve known you for at least eight years.” 

“Eight years, five months and… seven days.” She shrugged. “‘I’ve never told anyone. I never said anything about what happened that day until five hours ago.” 

“So… you and him. Were you like… you know… together?” he made a vague gesture with his hands that could mean several unsavory things.

Teryn stared at him, uncomprehending for a long, long minute. “What? NO. Oh, gross. No, no, no.” She began to laugh, almost unhinged. Din had the misfortune of coming in at the moment. “No, he’s my brother. Oh my stars that’s just. Ew.”

Even Din managed to look disgusted and appalled at the thought. 

Teryn made two versions of dinner- unspiced for the Kid and Andrys, and fully, properly spiced for her and Din. When she handed Din his plate to take to the gatehouse to eat, she also handed him hot sauce. Just in case. 

If nothing else, there was that. 

“What are you going to do?” Andrys asked the next day. He came by after school and clinic were over (Thankfully, it had been a slow week, medically). Din had continued to work on the Crest, the Kid had continued to be mournful about the lack of frogs. 

Teryn looked at Andrys. “Do? About what?”

“He knows the truth. Can’t he… do something?” 

“Even if he could, which he can’t for a lot of complicated reasons that aren’t mine to explain, there’s nothing to do. From the Mando’a perspective, I broke the Creed. There’s no coming back from that.”

“You can’t stay here forever.” 

“Why not? Are you leaving?” 

He shrugged. “It just seems like… you’re going to want more than being a country doctor. And maybe you can stop hiding from yourself.” 

Teryn mock scowled at him and threw a towel at him. “I don’t let you in here to come at me like this.” He laughed and threw the towel back. She handed him the Kid and headed for the infirmary. “When you go back, can you bring some stuff to the clinic for me?”

He nodded, and carried the Kid outside into the evening. He could see one of her antisocial cats creeping on the wall.  _ Probably hunting something.  _

Din was heading back to the house. The Crest was in as good a repair as he could possibly make it; filters cleaned, dark hole emptied, aired out. He still wasn’t sure what he and the Kid were going to do, and he didn’t feel great about leaving her after finally learning the truth, but it wasn’t safe to stay. Someone would eventually find them sooner or later, and given his luck, it would probably be sooner. 

At least she wasn’t completely alone. This Andrys guy seemed to be a good one. 

He was five minutes away when he heard the first blaster shot. 

She was rummaging around in the supplies when she heard the first shot, and already running with a shock baton in each hand when she heard one of the cats scream- a scream that cut off sharply with a second blaster shot. She saw the hunter with gun drawn approaching Andrys and the Kid- Andrys who had only the most basic combat training, years ago, and had an armful of Kid. Without thinking, she barreled into the hunter at his midsection, and bowled him over.

The hunter leapt to his feet as she rolled to hers, batons ready. He raised his blaster and she whipped around and struck it with a baton- if he hadn’t been wearing a heavy glove, he would have been shocked, but he had on heavy leather protective gear. Either way, the blaster was toast. He pulled a vibroblade, and the dance was on. 

Andrys had never seen anything like it. They parried, dodged, and weaved around each other, and he could see she was doing her best to keep herself between the hunter and him and the Kid. The hunter was good, and she was keeping up.

The Kid watched with wide eyes. Unlike when she had sparred with his protector, all of her emotions had narrowed down to a single point:  _ protect _ . Even the rage that had simmered below the surface of all of her feelings had gone away. 

Din ran. 

He could hear the unmistakable sounds of hand to hand combat, and turned the corner into the gate just to see her step forward and land a clean blow on the hunter’s neck. The hunter jerked sharply and collapsed, and she stood there, before staggering back a step, then two. 

Din ran forward and caught her as she fell backwards, her hand clutching the vibroblade sticking out of her gut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Gates of Istanbul" by Loreena Mckinnett https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDl5G-mxqF0


	10. Ten years and three days and one endless night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Andrys work to save Teryn, with... not many resources. It's kind of a mess.

Time stopped. Din heard himself yelling to Andrys to get the Kid into the house. He saw himself pulling his blaster and checking the hunter- he was dead, and the fob had been fried by a blow with the shock baton. He saw himself checking to see if there were any others waiting to attack. 

Time restarted when he saw Andrys kneeling next to her. She stared down at the blade and muttered, “Well,  _ shit. _ ” 

“We need to get her inside.” Andrys said. 

Din picked her up and she groaned, while Andrys held the blade to keep it from moving. The Kid watched them worriedly as they brought her to the infirmary. Atin crouched next to him, anxious, and the Kid reached out and curled his claws in the cat’s fur. 

“Ori’vod? Did I get him? Are they okay?” Teryn had her eyes closed, breathing deeply to try to control the pain. 

“Yeah, vod’ika, you got him. They’re fine. Andrys is right here, and the Kid is with the cat.” 

She opened her eyes, and could see the pair, watching at the door. The Kid wouldn't step across the threshold. “Atin, ke ja’hiullar ad’ika.” She closed her eyes again. 

They get her on the table and Andrys cut away her shirt to see the wound. “Fuck me, this is bad.” The vibroblade had gone deep and the vibration had made the wound a mess. He found some toweling to try to control the bleeding, and pulled out the blade. “Hold pressure on this. I saw some bacta yesterday.” He went into the supply closet. 

Din held the toweling in place, and she grabbed Din’s arm. “Ori’vod, ori’vod, parer. Ner beskarg’am.”  _ Brother, brother, wait. My armor.  _

“Me’copaani, vod’ika? Me’copaani?”  _ What do you want, little sister? _

“Ner beskarg’am. Hiibir…. Hiibir at Alor.”  _ My armor. Take it... take it to the Armorer. _

Din shook his head. “Nayc. Gar beskarg’am.”  _ No. It’s your armor. _

“Getdet’ye. Getdet’ye.”  _ Please. Please. _

He sighed. “Elek, Vod’ika. Elek. Ori’haat.”  _ Yes, little sister. Yes, I swear. _

Andrys came back with a handful of medications. “Found coags and symoxin, and something that says it’s bacta. This shit is at least ten years old. Teryn? ‘Ryn, where’s the bacta?” 

“Out.” 

Both men stopped. “What?”

“Don’t have any. Shipment was supposed to come last week.” She groaned, trying not to writhe, but the shock was wearing off. 

Andrys looked at Din. “Do you have any?”

Din shook his head slowly. “Small patches, nothing big enough for this.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Andrys thought furiously. “I can try this, but I don’t know if it’s any good. I’m gonna have to cauterize some of this.” 

She groaned. “FUCK.”

“What do you need me to do?” Din asked. 

“Hold her down. Some of this is pretty deep.” He applied the coagulant, injected the pain medication, and turned on the cauterizer. “I can’t wait for the symoxin to take effect. We have to start now.” She nodded. 

Din smoothed her hair out of her face, and then put his hands on her shoulders. “K’uur, k’uur, vod’ika. K'aitini."

She tried not to scream. She tried to hold still. By the end, she had passed out, and Din was shaking from the effort. The Kid was cowering behind Atin, both hands buried in the fur. Andrys slathered on the questionable bacta and put on a pressure bandage. “That should buy us some time to figure out what to do.” 

Andrys covered her with a blanket and he and Din stepped back. “She needs a surgeon, or bacta, maybe both. I’ve done what I can.” 

“Is there anyone else?”

Andrys shook his head. “No, not here.” 

"What the fuck do you people do without-" Din cut himself off. _That's not helping, dumbass._

Andrys jerked his chin at Teryn. "We have her." 

Din sighed. “We could take her somewhere off planet? Arkanis, maybe? They would have a medical facility.”

“How long would that take?”

Din shrugged. “Once we got on the Crest, a couple hours?” 

"Do we have the credits for that?" 

"Yes." One way or another, if the credits from the prison break job wasn't enough, he's figure it out.

“There’s a mine that’s five hours away by speeder that might have bacta.” Andrys drummed his fingers on the wall. “That’s what, twenty, thirty minutes on your ship? We should stop there. If they have it, it’ll buy us more time.” 

They got her on a hover-stretcher loaded up on Andrys’ speeder. Din picked up the Kid, and Atin leapt up into the speeder. He had been given an order, and he would follow it. The trip wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity. On board, Din put the Kid (and Atin, not that there was a choice about that) in the sleeping compartment. He also handed Andrys one of his bacta patches. It looked pitifully small.

“You’re gonna have to tell me where to go.” 

“I don’t want to leave her alone down here, but…. Fuck it, the sooner we get there, the better.” Andrys squeezed her hand and climbed up to the cockpit. 

Din touched his helmet to her forehead. “K’oyacyi, vod’ika. Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni.” 

_ Stay alive, little sister. You’re no use to me dead. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ke ja’hiullar ad’ika: Watch over the kid.   
> k'uur: Hush  
> K'aitani: It's only pain.  
> Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni: You're no use to me dead. Said to encourage someone to take a rest. Rarely literal.   
> Alor more correctly translates to Chief, but the Armorer is clearly the Matriarch of the Covert, so... we go with it.   
> The word for sibling is "vod." Ori'vod: Big brother. Vod'ika: Little sister.


	11. Ten years and four days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choices are made.

Doors were not a thing the Kid worried about much. Sure, he knew when he should stay put, but when he knew he should stay put and when his protector thought he should stay put were not always the same thing. 

This was one of those times he didn’t need to stay put. The woman was in pain and all alone, and she was in pain because of him. The licking kitty also wanted to get to the woman. What does a door even mean when those facts are true? 

In the cockpit, Din and Andrys sat in a silence only broken by Andrys giving directions. “I’m sorry, I’ve only gone there overland.” 

“It’s fine.” 

A pause, then, “Was he after you?”

“The kid.” At Andrys’ nod, Din admitted, “We were going to leave tomorrow.”

“Well.” 

“Yeah.”

It was cold. She was so cold. The entire universe was dark and cold except for the white hot pain. She vaguely had a sense that there had been movement, and someone had been worried. But mostly it was cold. 

The room his protector and the other man had been in when they were trying to heal the sad-eyed woman was one he didn’t want to go in. It reminded him of other rooms. She’d tried to take him in there, and when he’d been scared, she didn’t make him go. 

He liked her. His protector did, too, and his protector was very very scared for her.

He opened the door to the sleeping compartment, and carefully hopped out. It was important to be quiet, and he firmly “told” the licking kitty that he needed to be quiet, too. They snuck over to the stretcher, and climbed up. Atin carefully sniffed her face, then crept down to lie down on her legs. 

The Kid looked at the ladder to the cockpit, then back to her. He put his hands over the wound, and began to concentrate. 

“What did she say?”

“Hm?”

“When I was getting the supplies, she said something to you. What was it?”

“She wanted me to take her armor back to the Covert.” 

“Why?”

“Beskar belongs with the Tribe. It should be returned when it’s wearer dies.” 

There was a pinprick of light. A thread of warmth. The pain began to ease.

Maybe she wasn’t going to die, after all. 

Din turned off the lights for the last few minutes of the trip- no point in broadcasting their presence. They landed next to the mine thirty minutes later- it was full dark, and everyone had gone home for the night. Andrys pointed to a building off to the side. “That’s where the med supplies are. If they have anything, it’s there.” 

Din climbed down the ladder, praying that he wouldn’t find that it was too late. First, he saw that the door to the sleeping compartment was open ( _why do I even bother_ ). Second, he saw both the cat and the Kid looking at him, the Kid sitting tiredly next to her, one hand clutching her thumb. It was hard to tell in the lights of the cargo hold, but her color maybe looked a little better, and her face seemed to be less drawn in pain. 

Andrys hopped down behind him. “Her pulse is stronger. That’s good.” He frowned. “I thought he-” he gestured to the sleeping compartment.

Din nodded, “He was.” and then focused on the problem at hand, the one he could solve. “I should stay here, keep watch. You know where you’re going. You can get in there?” 

“Yeah, the lock isn’t hard.” 

Din handed him a communicator. “I thought you were a teacher.”

“I’ve been a lot of things.” 

Din turned off the interior lights and opened the side door. Andrys slipped out and headed for the building. Behind him, Din could hear some mutterings- it was hard to tell if that was the Kid or Teryn. “K’uur.” 

The sounds stopped. 

Through the night vision in his visor, Din watched Andrys make short work of the lock. A few minutes after Andrys went inside, he saw two Akk-dogs approaching- guard dogs, strays, it didn’t matter. “Times up!” Andrys came running out of the shed, holding a pouch. Din took aim with the pulsar rifle. He didn’t want to kill a dog, but if he had to… Andrys ran up the ramp, and Din hit the door. “Did they have any?”

“Some. It should buy us some time.” Andrys glanced guiltily at the door. “I really hope they don’t need any before we can replace it.” 

As Din climbed up to the cockpit with the Kid to lay in the course for Arkanis, Andrys removed the pressure bandage, and frowned. It was a lot more healed than he expected, given the questionable nature of the bacta. In fact, it was almost entirely healed. He shrugged and applied the new bacta, replaced the bandage, and climbed up.

“I don’t know what was in that old bacta, but….it seems to have worked.” Andrys thought for a second. “I still think we should go. It was… it was really bad.” 

Din agreed. 

The trip to Arkanis was uneventful, fortunately. The Kid slept in his seat. Andrys sat with Teryn, and eventually dozed off. Atin went back and forth between the Kid’s seat and her stretcher, before eventually settling watchfully above the ladder where he could see them both. 

Din sat and felt like shit. This had been his fault, and if he had gotten his shit together and left earlier… but if he’d left before she finally told him the truth, then he’d still be thinking the worst. But if he’d asked at any point in the past ten years…. If, if, if. The entire ride was one giant shame spiral for him. 

On Arkanis, he landed in a mid-sized settlement- large enough to have medical facilities, not large enough to attract a lot of attention from the outside galaxy. One might expect from their very matter of fact reaction that the medical staff was used to having people show up with injured comrades. They didn’t blink at the Mandalorian, and only asked necessary questions.

“She’s fine. Scans show that the internal damage has repaired, so… I don’t know what to tell you. The dose of symoxin you gave her was pretty big, and I’d expect her to wake up pretty soon. I’d rather keep her here until she does, just in case.”

Din and Andrys glanced at each other and both nodded. They set her up a small private room, and left everyone alone for the most part. Less than an hour later, she began to stir. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’re here. You can wake up.” Andrys gestured for Din to find the doctor. 

“Thirsty.” She swallowed. “What happened?” 

“What do you remember?”

“The hunter? I remember him, and the knife, and… then a lot of yelling?” She looked around, and frowned. “Where are we?”

“Arkanis. There’s a minor flaw in our medical coverage.” Andry grinned. "The yelling was mostly you." 

“Oh. Yeah. Did they do a good job?”

“No, the shitty bacta you had seems to have done it. Well, that and my expert cautery skills.”

She winced. “I think I’m glad I don’t remember that. What bacta? I’ve been out for over a week.”

“I found some Empire-era stuff in the back of the supply closet.”

“That…. Shouldn’t have worked.” Din came in with the doctor before she could examine that thought further. 

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” 

“Thirsty. Tired.” 

“Well, it looks like what your friends did took care of it. You can go whenever you’re ready. Take it easy, okay?” The other doctor smiled ruefully. “You should know the drill, but we’re the worst patients of all.”

She smiled at that. “Andrys, could you find some water? And maybe… a popsicle? I want to talk to him.” 

Andrys paused for just half a beat before nodding. “Of course. Gut wound gets what she wants today.” He left.

She looked at Din. “You’re feeling guilty. Knock it off.” 

“We should have left. There’s a lot of things I should have done.”

“Yeah, well. We can’t change it. This isn’t your fault. But you’re right. You do need to go.” 

“But-”

“No buts. You need to go. We can get a lift back from here. If they know where you were, they’ll be back. So you and the Kid need to go on.” 

Din paused for a long time, then said, quietly, “You could come with us.” 

She shook her head. “No. Thank you, but no. I really can’t. You’re had to come here because there isn’t anyone else back there. There’s just me. I can’t leave those people like that. And…”

“And there’s him.”

“There’s been him for a long time.” 

Din nodded. “I just-”

“I know.”

They sat in miserable silence. 

At the Razor Crest, Andrys shook hands with Din (it was all very manly), gave the Kid a gentle pat on the head, and stepped aside with Atin to give the two some space. 

“Take care of yourself, ori’vod. And the ad’ika. Stay in touch. Come by if you can.” She smiled, slightly shakily. “And if you don’t think I’m going to incessantly bring up the fact that I got stabbed for your kid and lord it over your head for the rest of your life, you are incorrect.” 

Din laughed. “I know you will.”

"One more thing. If he is alive. Don't kill him." Din cocked his head, questioning. Her eyes went hard. "I'm going to do it." He nodded. She earned that right, a hundred times over. 

The Kid cooed and reached for her face, and this time she let him touch it. “Ret’urcye mhi, ad’ika.” _Maybe we'll meet again, Little One._

She pressed her forehead to Din’s helmet. “K’oyacyi, sheb’kov. Meh gar kyrayc, shuk ba ni.” _Stay alive, butthead. You're no good to me dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this brings us to the end of this particular sequence. Teryn's story isn't over, but this particular chapter in her life is complete. Din's got an appointment on Navarro he can't miss. (Also I don't want to keep track of dates anymore.) It'll be a couple of weeks before I get on to the next thing (but I've been plotting!) 
> 
> Can I just say though, this is the first time I've written fiction in YEARS and I really appreciate all the kudos and comments!


End file.
